Just woke up from a nightmare. Can't really remember it now because it's already fading. But for some reason I feel like there's somebody standing outside my bedroom door. Crazy I know. It's all this stuff that's going on lately. The hurricane completely destroying New Orleans, my dad in the hospital, Gilligan. (Ah well, with Gilligan out of the picture who's going to console Ginger and Mary Ann? Heh heh heh.)
My dad's been complaining about a bad headache so the doc scheduled him for another CAT scan. His left leg is looking all banged up too. Probably from the fall during his stroke, but they're gonna do an ultrasound on it just to make sure there's no clot.
I'm sure the nightmares I had are from worrying about my father.
A father, to his child, symbolizes strength and self-reliance and the ability to handle adversity and provide not just for himself but for his wife and his kids. Growing up, my dad was the perfect example of this. So to see my father laid low by a stroke and to see him in pain in a hospital bed is very disturbing for me.
Sure, my dad's had two heart attacks and this family isn't new to ERs and ICUs and stuff. But the first time my dad had a heart attack, I was a kid and Kuya and I had no idea of the danger. In fact when we heard my mom say "ambulance" we took out our toy fireman helmets with flashing sirens and put 'em on my parents' bed posts and pretended we were abulance drivers. Hmm, I won't say we pretended. We picked up on my mom's demeanor and we were as serious as a first and third grader could be. The second time my dad had a heart attack my brothers and I were angry. We were pissed at my dad for smoking behind our backs even though he should have quit after the first heart attack. We were also angry at ourselves, especially Kuya and me, because we both knew my dad was still smoking but we were too afraid to confront him with it.
So this stroke, for me, is the first time I'm really scared for my father's health. I would do anything for my father. I pray to God to help me lend my father some of my strength and my health. I'll stay at his bedside so my mom can rest. You know all those things I just mentioned are lofty, idealistic and altruistic offers of help.
But the most difficult thing to do for my father is shaving him. Not that I am unable to do it -- it's not like tying a necktie on another person where everything is semi-backwards and you really have to think about how to tie the knot. Shaving people is easy. I've done it for Lolo, too. It's just that shaving my father is hard because it's disturbing. He's my father. He taught me how to tie a necktie and he taught me how to shave. So for me to have to shave him... it's just disturbing. I don't know how else to describe it.
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Beth just text-messaged me from the Philippines. She told me to go to bed and she's hugging me in her mind right now and I should do the same. How simple a message that is! Yet how comforting. Thanks Beth. I love you for chasing the nightmares away.
Posted by glenn at September 8, 2005 03:25 AM